
This is the only photo my mother has of her childhood. Because her house burnt down when she was 13 years old all other photos of herself as a child were destroyed. Without any other documentary reference to her life as a child, I often wonder about whether or not she has forgotten or become isolated from her childhood self and the emotions connected to that time of her life. The memories of my own childhood are made clear to me through the seemingly endless collections of color photos I can easily access. Yet my mother has no choice but to base much of her childhood recollection on this one black and white image. I often wonder how the quality or meaning of our respective childhood memories compare based on this fact.
by ayumi
very powerful, ayumi. you are touching on a very interesting phenomenon here. something, I'm sure, we all can relate to - memories being visual. again, photographs as 'representation'.
ReplyDelete/flem